


You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war

by Samcgrath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy is a tease, Jealous Harry, Light Bondage, M/M, POV Harry, Possessive Harry, fair bit of, protecting Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samcgrath/pseuds/Samcgrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy needs protection from Merlin-knows-what and he only wants Harry Potter for the job. Harry Potter, who is in the middle of important missions and does not want to babysit the pointy git. Why Kingsley has agreed to this ludicrous demand is anybody's guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war

**Author's Note:**

> Bear in mind, I have never written smut this explicit.
> 
> A/N: Minor typing errors corrected July 2017.

“ _Malfoy_? You want me to protect _him_?! In the middle of this mission—“

“Yes, Auror Potter. I am still the Minister for Magic, am I not?”

“Yes, but—“

“Are you disobeying a direct order?” 

He looks pleadingly at Kingsley, hoping that his eyes will reflect how much he’d rather willingly take a _Crucio_ than protect Malfoy from Merlin knows what. Kingsley’s face doesn’t change at all, that stubborn expression making it very clear that he won’t budge.

Defeated, Harry sighs and shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Good. You have an hour to get your affairs in order before arriving at Mr. Malfoy’s residence. You will be staying there until further notice.”

“ _Stay_ there? Wha—“

“Am I going to have to argue with you about everything on this case?”

The disappointment in his eyes makes Harry melt, and all his excuses wither away. After how understanding Kingsley’s been with Harry’s very prolific and unconventional employment with the Ministry, he knows he owes the Minister.

“No, sir.”

“Excellent! Now, I suggest you go home and get your affairs in order. I will see you in a week’s time. And, Harry?”

“Sir?”

“I do appreciate your cooperation on this.”

“Right.”

He floos straight to 12 Grimmauld Place and packs a light bag because he does not plan on staying with Malfoy till the end of the week. No way.

After penning a quick owl to Hermione to let her know what’s happening in case one of Malfoy’s many shady acquaintances decides to target Harry, he chooses to take a shower before starting the most bizarre work assignment he’s ever had.

When he’s standing under the warm spray of the shower, only then does he allow himself to think about why he doesn’t want to do this job. It’s something that’s been lying under the surface this whole time, quite unintentionally. He just hasn’t had to face Malfoy in a long time. 

Not wanting to dwell on futile thoughts, he rinses off his hair and lets it go where it wants without thinking of Malfoy’s comments about it over the years. He is a grown man who doesn’t much care about the childish insults of his schoolboy nemesis.

_How bad can it be?_

***

Harry steps out of the floo into a large room where the last of the sun’s rays are casting shadows on the walls. It’s a beautiful room, almost empty save a sofa and a flat screen on the far wall. Wait. A flat screen in Malfoy's hous—

“Potter.”

Pulling his eyes away from the most muggle invention ever in Draco Malfoy's flat takes quite a bit of effort. He finds the man in question sauntering into the room dressed in that impeccable elegance he has, a glass of whiskey dangling from long fingers. He looks so different than his school days and yet the way he walks and the air he carries around himself is the same. 

“Malfoy.” 

The git bows as if he’s an artist after a masterful performance, that Malfoy confidence Harry’s always been envious of dripping off him in gallons. Unbidden, an image of Malfoy’s face pinched in fear and soaked in sweat comes to mind. 

That day in the Room of Requirement when Harry had pulled him onto his broom and Malfoy had clung to him like a drowning man, he had looked the exact opposite of how he looks right now. Along with that image, comes a memory. A memory of Malfoy pulling Harry close and embracing him just as they’d both gotten off Harry’s broom.

Harry hadn’t known what to think or do as Malfoy had stood there clutching him and only Ron loudly clearing his throat behind them had finally separated them. Even then, Harry had been so lost for a moment. His hand had lifted of its own accord to rub at Malfoy’s right cheek that was covered in soot from the fiendfyre.

He had had to run and leave Malfoy behind to go defeat a Dark Lord and in between dying and coming back to life, he hadn’t much time to think about that moment outside the Room of Requirement.

And the next time he’d seen Malfoy, it was at his trial and for the one second their eyes had met as Harry was leaving and Malfoy was trying to blink through the blinding flashes of reporters’ cameras on the stairs outside the Wizengamot, something had passed between them in silence and Harry’s still not sure what it was.

That was the last time he had seen Malfoy.

“Are you going to keep staring at me all night? Is that how you plan on protecting me?”

That silvery teasing lilt to Malfoy’s voice that used to irritate Harry, it has a very different effect now which Harry is going to ignore. “Why do you need protection? Who’s trying to hurt you?”

“Do I really need to tell you how many people would want a Malfoy dead? Especially, _this_ Malfoy?”

“No, I understand the urge.”

Out of nowhere, Malfoy bursts out laughing with absolute abandon, his head thrown back. The pale column of his throat stretches and Harry’s eyes get stuck on the skin for a moment before he remembers where he is and why.

It seems like Malfoy has really changed, he would never have laughed like this at Hogwarts. No, his laugh back then was cruel more than anything, not this happy sound.

“Wouldn’t that be something? Shacklebolt assigns you to protect me and ends up having to send you to Azkaban for my murder.”

He’s shaking his head at Harry, his hair is longer than Harry’s ever seen it and it falls into his face with the movement.

“I’m not going to kill you, Malfoy,", Harry manages to say through a mouth that feels like it's been stuffed with cotton.

“I’ve heard children lie with more conviction, Potter.”

Harry’s response dies on his lips when Malfoy winks at him with that fucking smirk of his stretching his lips, before turning around and walking out of the room.

“Follow me, if you will. That’s the kitchen through there and the bedrooms are on the second floor. Perhaps, you’d like to unpack and get settled in?”  

Harry just nods and follows Malfoy up the stairs, his eyes glued to the ground rather than the quite spectacular arse leading him upstairs.

_Merlin, where is this madness coming from?_

“Right, that’s my room over there and this one is yours. I don’t have a house elf but I do have someone who comes in to clean every week. If something is not up to your standards in the room, let me know.”

He stands there awkwardly shuffling his feet as Malfoy gives him a brief summary of his daily schedule and the people who usually visit him. All the while, his fingers are unbuttoning the cuffs of his crisp white shirt and rolling the sleeves till they sit tight around his forearms and Harry really has lost his train of thought.  

Finally, when Malfoy stops with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, Harry can bring himself back to the conversation at hand. It’s infuriating how fit Malfoy is - strictly from a professional stand point, of course.

“— will be entertaining a few guests over the week but otherwise, I don’t have many commitments. It’s a slow week for work so I will likely stay at home. That’s about it. I shall be making dinner in about an hour so come down then. Before that, if you need anything, give me a shout.”

“Thanks.”

He’s looking at Harry with those light eyes, and for a moment Harry feels like he’s seventeen again and standing outside the Room of Requirement with his whole future ahead of him. There’s no Ron to clear his throat this time so they may have been standing there for a while, just staring at each other.

Then, Malfoy looks away with a sniff and turns around to walk to his room without a single word. Harry’s stood there in the hall wondering just what has he gotten himself into.

*** 

Dinner is a quiet affair mostly because Harry is still processing the image of Draco Malfoy wearing a pink apron over his shirt with the bloody rolled sleeves. He may or may have not spent the entire time at the kitchen table trying to align this Malfoy with the boy he knew at school and coming up short.

This Malfoy knows how to cook, bloody brilliantly too. This Malfoy watches cricket during dinner. This Malfoy walks around barefeet while in his perfectly tailored trousers and his obscenely fitting shirt.

This Malfoy owns oven gloves.  

***

The first night he spends at Malfoy’s flat is uneventful; there are no suspicious noises in the night or people trying to kill the git. If anything, Harry is bored by the next afternoon because all Malfoy does is sit in the drawing room writing things in an official looking ledger or floo-calling people and talking about things Harry can’t possibly make sense of.

He seems to be working from home, like he'd said yesterday.

So, what does one do when the person one is supposed to be protecting is sitting ten feet from oneself at all times? He ends up watching fascinating videos of the wildlife on Malfoy’s giant flat screen for five hours.

Malfoy makes roasted potatoes for dinner and then disappears into his room leaving Harry with the flat screen for another hour. He’s almost falling asleep on the comfortable sofa when he jerks awake at a loud noise from somewhere. It takes him a moment to realize that the sound was that of a muggle doorbell and someone’s at the door.

Harry shoots out of the sofa when the person rings the bell a second time, quite impatiently. He rushes to position himself defensively behind the door before opening it, ready for an attack.  

The man standing outside opens his mouth to talk but stops when he sees Harry, probably because he wasn’t expecting someone other than Malfoy to answer.

“...um, sorry, I'm--am I...are you Harry Potter?!”

Harry’s about to ask who the man is when the sound of shoes clicking on the floor catches his attention. He turns around to find Malfoy walking toward the door. He ignores Harry’s gesture to stay inside and pushes through the half-open door to greet the unknown man.

“Edward, do come in.”

Leaving Harry standing in the doorway, Malfoy leads the man inside toward the sofa. Harry grits his teeth in annoyance, how he is supposed to be protecting Malfoy when the git won’t even introduce his guests to Harry?

“Uh, thanks. Sorry, is that Harry Potter who just opened the door?”

Harry stands a little to the side where Edward can’t see him but it’s clear that Malfoy is irritated by the question or perhaps by Harry's presence. The way his fingers grip the back of the sofa almost tearing through the fabric, it’s very clear that he’s irritated.

“Yes, it is. Would you rather fuck him tonight?”

Harry doesn’t hear the man’s response because he’s too busy not coughing up his lungs. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to breathe right now yet it feels like he’s choking on something invisible. He excuses himself from the room now that he knows that the stranger is not actually a stranger and is not here to kill Malfoy.

On his way up the stairs, he ignores the satisfied smirk on Malfoy’s face he caught just as he turned to go.

***

He tries to read, a habit he picked up during the countless hours he’s spent being alone on surveillance missions. Entertainment is equally hard to find in the middle of a forest as it is in a run-down hotel room.

 _Trying_  because the sounds coming from down the hall would make a monk lose concentration. He has already re-read the same sentence five times unsuccessfully when yet another loud moan echoes through the flat. And Harry can make out enough to know that it’s Malfoy screaming the whole house down.

His training makes him want to barge into Malfoy’s room and check for an intruder or an attack but he stays put. Mostly because following that instinct, he had almost barged into Malfoy’s room when the first scream had come but thankfully just as he was about to twist the door handle and go in, the scream had transformed into a moan and a crude request to go harder.

He’d let go of the handle instantly and retreated to his own room. 

Currently, Malfoy is whining like a bitch in heat and Harry’s sure the neighbours are going to come knocking at the door any second. As much as the humiliation of someone complaining about the obscene noises terrifies him, he’s just not sure what he can do.

He most definitely doesn’t want to interrupt whatever is happening in Malfoy’s room. Well, it’s quite clear what is happening. Malfoy’s hoarse cries are absolutely unrelenting. Harry can feel his own body responding rather quickly to the sounds of pleasure coming from down the hall.

But he stays where he is and doesn’t dare touch himself. That’s a line he is not going to cross. 

*** 

Harry opens his eyes to find the room completely dark around him. He must’ve fallen asleep with the book on his chest and his glasses still on. Pushing his legs up, he gets up off the bed and stubs his toes into the bedside table.

The anguished cry of pain out of his lips echoes thunderously off the walls but thankfully no one comes barging through the door. Putting the book on the nightstand with curses falling from his lips, he settles back on the bed to get a proper sleep.

As he’s lying there on soft sheets, with a start, he realizes that the house is dead quiet around him. His eyes jerk open when he remembers what was happening when he fell asleep. He tries to spy any sound coming from down the hall by straining his ears but it’s very silent.

So he takes off his glasses and closes his eyes to get some rest.

***

He was not prepared to see Malfoy awake and sitting at the kitchen table with a soft-looking robe wrapped around his body the next morning. One look at the git and Harry remembers the sounds from last night with crystal clarity. He almost groans aloud when he thinks of the screams he’d heard but thankfully he still has a little bit of control on his body.

He has to grit his teeth to make sure he doesn’t blurt out anything embarrassing as he walks around Malfoy’s chair and toward the pot of tea on the counter. With his back to his host, he pours himself a cup and grabs a plate to get a few pieces of toast. The silence is ringing in his ears but then, he’d rather go mad in this silence than subject himself to last night’s horrors again.

“I hope you had a good night.”

He’s startled by Malfoy’s voice so close to his ear, curses at himself for forgetting that the git has always been very silent in his movements. Still, Harry was trained as an auror and no one should be able to sneak up behind him.

He’s about to answer when he feels Malfoy moving closer, close enough that Harry can feel Malfoy’s chest rising and falling with each breath against his back. The proximity makes his words stall on his tongue and the git takes advantage of the situation by leaning down to put his mouth next to Harry’s ear. He speaks in a soft whisper. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Harry almost leans back into the heat behind him, almost loses himself in the phantom touch just as quickly as he'd come, Malfoy moves away leaving Harry cold as a gust of wind replaces the warmth along his back.

Composing himself with a silent breath, Harry turns around with his tea and plate of toast to find Malfoy looking at him with a bored expression. Anyone else would say that Malfoy wasn’t interested in his answer, but Harry can see the keen look in those sharp silver eyes.

“No.”

He settles down at the table and starts buttering his toast, seemingly uninterested, but out of the corner of his eye, he can see the smirk playing on Malfoy’s lips.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

If he didn’t know any better, Harry would think Malfoy was teasing him.

***

Malfoy is definitely teasing him.

When Harry had come out of the bathroom this morning after his shower, he’d noticed the door to Malfoy’s room was open and out of curiosity, he had looked in. What he’d found was Malfoy standing with his back to Harry with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Harry’s feet had stopped moving, his eyes were too busy roaming the wide expanse of pale skin: the perfect skin marred with a few dark marks on Malfoy’s back, the kind of marks a lover leaves after a passionate night.

An irrational surge of anger and something else red hot had almost made Harry barge into the room.

Thankfully, his senses had returned before he did something he’d most definitely regret. 

But even now, three hours later, he can’t get the sight of a shirtless Malfoy standing there with the door left ajar out of his mind. That image of muscles shifting just under the skin as Malfoy pulled on a shirt just won’t leave him alone.

His fingers are itching to touch and grip and squeeze, it feels like he’s been burning inside since last night but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. The shower would be the best place but he can’t risk Malfoy finding out that Harry wanked in his shower. So, now here he is, watching Malfoy walking around barefoot with those fucking bony, pale feet and those piercing eyes and that stupid smirk.

He’s almost shuddering with the need to come by dinnertime. Malfoy’s seated opposite him and the bastard ordered Chinese so he’s currently sucking noodles from chopsticks with those sinful lips and Harry is having a hard time concentrating on eating his own food.

A knock at the door interrupts Harry’s steady gaze on him. Malfoy looks up at the sound, smirking smugly when he finds Harry already looking. And then he makes a show of licking sauce off his fingers even though he is one of the most well-mannered people in the world and would never get sauce anywhere near his fingers.

“Would you mind opening the door? I think it’s a friend of mine.”

Harry pushes back his chair and goes to the door, wand at the ready as he stands behind the door and opens it swiftly.

There’s a man standing in the doorway, different from last night. He takes a look at Harry and then makes a move to come inside but Harry stops him with a hand on his chest. The man looks down at Harry’s hand like it’s covered in dragon dung and is ruining his clothes. Harry feels irritation coiling in his chest, an angry resort on his lips—but before Harry or the man can say anything, Malfoy comes up behind Harry to check who it is over Harry’s shoulder. 

“Oh, Justin! You’re a bit early but come on in.”

The man pushes Harry’s hand away with a sneer and follows Malfoy into the flat without a single word to Harry.

“We were just having dinner, would you like to join?”

“No, I’ve already eaten. Say, who is that rude doorman you’ve gotten?”

“Oh, him? He’s just someone staying here for a while.”

“We can still go on as planned, right?”  

“I sure hope so.” 

Harry picks up his carton of noodles and walks up the stairs without excusing himself. He couldn’t possibly stand there and watch Malfoy and that Justin arsehole making eyes at each other.

He eats in silence and once he’s finished, he lays down in bed with the same book as last night. Just as he’s about to turn the page, a loud creak interrupts the silence. Not wanting to catch Malfoy fucking yet another person, but also not wanting to find him dead in his room, Harry gets up and makes his way down the hall.

His socks make him glide on the wooden floor and he’s just about to knock on the door when Malfoy’s voice makes him stop with his hand in the air.

“Oh Salazar, just like that!”

He freezes on the spot as a moan follows the words. He should move, he should go back to his room and close the door.

“Ohhh, yeah.... fuck!”

His eyes fall shut at the breathy exclamation, and his hand almost reaches down to touch himself but that’s where he draws the line. He will not fall down to that level. 

So he goes back to his room and casts a silencing charm.  He doesn't make it past the second sentence on the next page of his book.

***

Malfoy’s neck is covered in angry red bruises and Harry almost spills hot tea on his hand when he first notices them. Settling in opposite Malfoy at the kitchen table, Harry can’t take his eyes off the marks.

“Something the matter, Potter?”

He looks up from the marked neck to amused eyes watching him. Malfoy definitely saw him staring.

“No.”

“You’ve been staring at my neck like you want to throttle me.”

_Not throttle you, no. Make you hurt, yes, but not throttle you._

“That’s a nasty bruise you have there."

“This?”

A long finger traces over the darkest mark, caressing the skin as Malfoy’s eyes pierce right into Harry’s. _Gods, what is he doing?_

“It doesn’t hurt. Not until I do this.”

The finger digs into the mark and the second the pressure sets in, Malfoy’s eyes slip closed and a sharp gasp escapes his lips. Harry can’t decide where he should look: that finger pressing on the mark or the way Malfoy’s eyes have closed in pleasure or the way his lip is caught between his sharp teeth.

He looks away.

He feels that same surge of anger and some other unidentifiable emotion at the sight, only it’s much more fierce today. It almost makes him break the teacup in his hand, but he manages to put it down before his grip becomes too tight.

Not wanting to lose any more control, he finishes the toast and flees to his room.

***

Malfoy has been quiet all day. He hasn't once knocked on Harry's door or called his name. And Harry's been staring at the ceiling for hours now, slowly losing his grip on sanity. Even Hermione had noticed the tension around his eyes when he'd slipped out earlier today to see her for lunch. 

"Harry, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Is it about Malfoy? Have you two--"

"No."

He wasn't sure what she was going to say but he wasn't going to sit there and talk about Malfoy when he was already struggling with whatever it is that the git has done to him. She hadn't looked convinced by his answer but before she could say anything, Ron had returned with their pints and an amusing story about a customer at Weasley's Wheezes today. 

He's lost in reminiscing about lunch when Malfoy's voice rings through the silence. 

"Dinner!"

Harry goes downstairs and silently slips into the chair he's been sitting in for every meal for the last two days and Malfoy settles across from him like he always does. The food smells heavenly and Malfoy offers him a quick smile when he notices the starved look on Harry's face. 

"Dig in, Potter."

They eat in silence just like the previous nights, commentary from a cricket match in the background. Even Harry gets lost in watching the sport, but he's nowhere as engrossed as Malfoy who heartily cheers every once in a while and curses even more heartily. 

Suddenly, loud music interrupts the sounds of cricket and Harry looks around startled trying to identify the source of the disturbance when he notices Malfoy’s hand disappearing down the table. It reappears a moment later holding— _is that a muggle phone?_

Harry’s shock must be evident on his face because Malfoy silently lifts the phone to his ear with his lips stretched in a smirk, surely at Harry’s expense.

“This is Malfoy.”

Harry is processing the fact that Draco Lucius Malfoy owns a muggle phone. His own eyes are stuck on Malfoy’s face, trying to make sense of this puzzling development.

“Is that so?”

Malfoy’s tone changes from casual to sultry so quick that Harry can’t pull his gaze away from the dark eyes looking at him even if he tried. And then, it’s too late.

“Oh, I want _you._ ” He says it while he’s staring straight at Harry, his eyes don’t even blink as his lips form those words. Harry forgets to breathe for a moment because surely Malfoy isn’t saying it to him. No, he is talking to someone on the muggle phone and that’s who he is saying that to.

Still, he can’t bring himself to look away from the most beautifully intense eyes he’s ever seen. And the problem in his trousers is very insistent.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.”  

Harry’s fingers clench around his spoon helplessly, he can’t possibly look away. _How can any mortal man walk away from those eyes and those lips saying that?_

“I need to feel you inside me.”

Oh gods, he’s going to come in his pants like a teenager if Malfoy doesn’t stop saying such things. Or at least, if he doesn’t look somewhere else rather than making sure Harry knows that Malfoy’s watching him.

He’s seconds away from stealing his hand down the table and touching himself. Oh Merlin, the thought of sitting here across the table from Malfoy and bringing himself off is incredibly hot.

_His fingers wrapping around himself as Malfoy looks at him, eating his dinner like a proper wizard while Harry strokes his hard cock, twisting his wrist in just that way, and then comes all over himself and the floor with Malfoy none the wiser._

Thankfully, before he can do something as questionable as wank in Malfoy’s drawing room, the git ends the call. His eyes are still keenly watching Harry. The thrill of knowing Malfoy is watching him shouldn’t be so erotic.

“Who were you talking to?”

There’s that condescending smirk on those maddeningly pink lips. Harry struggles to tear his eyes away from the sight and look Malfoy in the eye. He might be wrong but he thinks the grey is almost invisible now, swallowed by the dark pupils. _Gods, Draco almost looks like a demon with dark eyes._

“That’s none of your concern.”

Irritation courses thickly through him, almost making him slam a fist on the table breaking all of Malfoy’s delicate china.

“It is when you sit there staring at me while you say those things to someone else.”

“Jealous, Potter?”

And that’s all that Harry can take really, that’s all he can hear without snapping. And Merlin, does he snap!

He’s across the room the next second, Malfoy’s robe bunched up in his hands as he pulls the git up and shoves him against a wall. Gods, he’s so pliant in Harry’s hands, he goes easily and looks at Harry with those fucking eyes and his lips parted like he’s waiting for something—

Harry rushes forward and crushes his lips against Malfoy’s, pushing his body forward and pinning Malfoy to the wall so he can feel them aligned from mouth to thighs and this is all he’s wanted to do ever since he laid eyes on Draco sodding Malfoy three days ago.

It’s nothing like he’s ever experienced before and Harry has experienced before. After realizing that he preferred fucking men much more than women, he had had his fair share of fast, rough sex in alleys and loos. He had been kissed within an inch of his life several times but never quite like this. No, Malfoy kisses just like he does everything else: with an unparalleled skill and stubbornness.

Harry pushes into Malfoy’s body feeling that fevered skin against his wherever the clothes don’t cover them. His hands are mussing through Malfoy’s hair, that hair that’s always looked perfect no matter what the situation around them. Not now, no, now it looks like someone’s been running their fingers through it for hours. Like someone’s pulled on it while holding Malfoy down and fucking him.

That image makes him groan, and Malfoy takes advantage when Harry’s lips part. He feels the soft ribbon of Malfoy’s tongue brushing over his lower lip before entering his mouth and touching his own tongue. It’s not aggressive like the rest of his actions and yet that slight movement of Malfoy’s tongue against the inside of his cheek almost brings him to his knees.

And Malfoy’s hands move over Harry’s back with conviction like a lover’s touch. They’re possessive as they cross over his waist and pull Harry even closer to Malfoy’s body. He almost stumbles in his need to be as close to Malfoy as possible, gods, has he always felt this way around the git? _Has this need, this desperation always been there?_

Harry feels a telling tug behind his navel and when he opens his eyes next, he finds himself on Malfoy’s bed completely naked. Malfoy himself is kneeling in front of him with his arse raised in the air, ready to be fucked.

Groaning, Harry leans down and runs a possessive hand down the pale back. Malfoy arches into his touch and pushes his arse against Harry’s leaking cock. The bastard keeps grinding back against Harry’s length till they’re both panting.

With unbelievable self control, Harry moves away from Malfoy and casts a quick _Incarcerous_ to bind Malfoy’s wrists with thin white rope. The sight in front of him, Malfoy struggling against his binds and writhing on the bed, is absolutely maddening.

Harry doesn’t waste any time in conjuring lube. When he tries to push a finger in, he’s surprised to find it slip inside the slick heat easily.

“Wha—"

“I’ve been opening myself up. Every. Day. Hoping you’ll take the hint.”

A groan rips lose from his lips at the words or maybe it's the sensation of being inside Draco Malfoy. Merlin, it’s intoxicating.

He pulls his finger out and tries two instead, they slip past the ring of muscle and dip into searing heat without resistance. Annoyed at not getting the chance to tease Malfoy open, Harry leans forward and licks the spot where his fingers are thrusting in and out of Malfoy.

The git shifts up on the bed the second Harry’s tongue touches his hole. Harry almost imbalances and ends up falling over him. But he reaches out at the last moment and holds Malfoy’s head down into the mattress to keep his own balance. Whatever Malfoy says next is muffled by the sheets.

Harry doesn’t let him say anything, he simply brings his teeth to Malfoy’s fluttering hole and teases but doesn’t bite. His own fingers are dripping in saliva by the time he’s done licking and fucking Malfoy’s hole with his tongue and three fingers.

“Do it, Potter, you bastard. Do it.”

With a smile pressed into Malfoy’s skin, Harry pulls back from the glistening wet hole and withdraws his fingers. The desperation in Malfoy’s voice is what he wanted to hear. And thank Merlin, Malfoy says it because Harry can’t have held on much longer.

He sits up and brushes a soothing hand down Malfoy’s back. They both need to slow down a little if this is going to last more than one thrust. Malfoy relaxes some under his hand, his legs spread wider on the bed and Harry just can’t believe he’s got Draco Malfoy spread out under him with his hands cuffed behind his back and his arse gaping open.

With a last stroke of his hand down Malfoy’s spine, Harry leans forward and nudges his cock against Malfoy’s hole. The pretty little thing flutters against the tip and Harry almost gives in and thrusts inside in a single push, but then he remembers the teasing and torture Malfoy put him through in the last few days.

Biting his lip against the effort, he pushes in teasingly and then pulls out before he can really penetrate. Malfoy’s arse follows him back as if he’s going to impale himself on Harry’s cock. He lets out a frustrated sound as his hands move around as much as the rope allows, trying to find Harry behind him and pull him closer.

“Malfoy, stay.”

With a defeated sigh, the blond stops grasping at air and instead reaches down to part his cheeks. The sight makes Harry thrust involuntarily into empty air, fucking Malfoy.

 _Fucking_ Malfoy, he thinks with a smirk.

He moves closer to Malfoy on the bed, teasing the tip against Malfoy’s hole and pushes forward just as Draco moves backwards, opening around Harry’s cock and it presses inside. Finally. Malfoy moans loudly, his hands grappling for purchase on Harry’s skin where his fingers pinch and squeeze but none of that matters right now.

All that matters is Malfoy lying pliant underneath him, waiting for Harry to give him what he’s been craving for days now.  Harry leans down and brings his mouth next to Malfoy’s ear and licks the burning skin like a promise.

When he can feel Malfoy holding his breath, he whispers, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

The body beneath his shivers and the sound Malfoy makes is loud enough for the neighbours to have heard. Good.

“Merlin, fuck.”

“This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? Say it.”

“Y – yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Potter, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Fuck, yes, just move!”

“You’ve been putting on a show, haven’t you? Wanting for someone to hold you down and give it to you hard.”

“Nnngggh.”

“Tell me, Malfoy. Tell me how much you want this.”

“So bad, I want this so bad, plea--fuck, Potter. Just move, damn you!”

He pulls at Malfoy’s bound hands and his back arches beautifully in response. Gods, all that pale skin, Harry just wants to lean down and bite. So he does.

“Arrrrgh.”

Draco is panting underneath him, writhing on his expensive sheets like a common whore and Harry just wants to fuck him but he’ll come too soon if he doesn’t take a moment to himself. He pulls out till only the tip is inside and the sight of Malfoy’s pink hole stretched tight around the head of his cock sets something alight in him.

“Fuck me, Potter, just fuck—“

His angry command dies on his lips when Harry does finally pull out almost all the way, the man beneath him holds perfectly still waiting for Harry to push in so who’s he to disappoint. Steadying himself on his knees for the most intense fucking of his life so far, Harry thrusts in with everything he’s got and Malfoy arches up off his knees and almost into his arms but Harry pushes him down with a hand between his shoulder blades.“Stay.”

Draco nods like this is the most important order he’s ever gotten and like he’s willing to obey anything as long as Harry fucks him.

“Move, move—“

His next thrust shuts Malfoy up, well, barring the little mewling sounds he’s making. The bastard clenches tightly around him almost like he doesn’t want Harry to pull out. Merlin, he’s having trouble holding himself back.

The sight of his cock pushing into Draco’s wet little hole is intoxicating, Harry can’t pull his eyes away as he drives in and out of the searing heat with ruthless thrusts. On a particularly rough thrust, Draco sobs like he’s in pain and Harry sees red. “Is this what you wanted, you bastard? Is this why you’ve been saying all those things? Teasing me when I’ve been so close to pushing you against a wall and taking you right there? While your random fucks stood there and watched you getting properly fucked?”

“Nnnnggghhh.”

“This what you want? Screaming the whole house down in the middle of the night, moaning like a whore? You writh on the bed underneath those nameless bastards? Huh? I bet everyone on the street knows you’re getting fucked right now.”

“Yes, right there! Oh fuck! Oh fuuu--“

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. How long I’ve wanted to just push you on your knees and make you choke on my cock. Stuff that loud mouth of yours and finally shut you up.”

Draco’s hole clenches and unclenches around him like the words have hit him somewhere deep and private. He looks back over his shoulder at Harry, his silver eyes almost wet with tears and his lips bitten red. _Merlin, he’s a sight!_

“Harry, please.” 

“Oh gods, you’re begging me now... oh fuck!”

He pulls at the rope and Malfoy leans up, the plane of his back curving so deliciously that Harry can’t help but give him what he wants. His hips snap at a brutal pace and all Draco does is beg, oh so beautifully, “Please, please, gods please.” He knows how much it affects Harry to hear those words, he must know, that's why he keeps chanting them like a spell. "Please, pleas--"

“You’re such a git, Malfoy! Even when you’re on your knees getting fucked, with your hands cuffed behind your back, you’re still such a git!”

The bastard shoots him a smirk, that fucking smirk. Harry plants his knees more firmly on the bed and pulls Draco up to kneel in front of him. His arms go around Draco’s chest and his cock thrusts so much deeper this way, they both groan at the same time.

“Oh Salazar, right there!”

“Fuck, Draco! You arsehole, you’ve tortured me for days now! You’re such a cunt!”

“Yes, I am. I’m a cunt, punish me. Fuck me harder!” Draco’s hands are scratching at him, trying to find flesh to hold onto but Harry doesn’t stop or move closer. He just can’t.

“You’re so fucking hot, begging like a slut!”

“Please, Harry! Please, just don’t stop. Please.”

“Gods, you’re beautiful. You bastard, you’ve always been so beautiful. That’s why all those men wanted to fuck you, and I had to hear you screaming yourself hoarse. Not anymore, you hear me? Only I get to fuck you from now on!”

He does that thing again, his hole flutters around Harry’s cock as if his body is agreeing to Harry’s claim.

“Yes, you. Only you.”

“You’re mine.”

“Yours. I’m yours, fuuuuck!”

“Say it again.”

“Gods, yes, I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Harry!”

That’s what pushes him over the edge, those words falling from Draco’s lips in a sob is what makes him groan and come inside Draco’s arse with curses falling from his own lips. His hips keep moving, dragging through the wetness inside Draco and pushing it deeper into him.

Draco cries when Harry’s hand circles around his throbbing cock and the second he squeezes, Draco shoots over his fingers and ruins the sheets beneath them. He’s trembling in Harry’s arms as Harry’s hand moves, slowly milking him.

Even though his thighs are killing him, Harry stays where he is with Draco plastered to his front. They’re both panting and Harry just wants to lay down and hold Draco but he knows the body in his arms is too sensitive for them to move yet.

Finally, Draco wriggles in his grip and the movement makes Harry’s cock almost slip out of his arse, but it catches at the rim. A painful hiss from Draco makes Harry’s hand move soothingly over his chest. “Ssshh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Draco just nods and moves to fall forward on the bed, Harry’s cock finally slipping out.

He watches as Draco lays there on the bed on his stomach, spread out with Harry’s cum leaking from his hole and trickling down his thighs. He can’t bear to look anymore so he lays down beside Draco and pulls him into his arms. The blond sighs and nuzzles closer, something Harry knows Draco would never do if he wasn’t completely exhausted.

Pushing away any thoughts of what will happen next, Harry tangles his legs with Draco’s and holds him close. Somewhere between inhaling the heady smell of sex in the room and the distinct scent of the man in his arms, Harry falls asleep.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I've never written smut this detailed and explicit before, I really hope it wasn't awkward.


End file.
